


In Sickness and In Health (Or: Grumpy Cas is Grumpy)

by mahbbys



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Backrubs, Canon Related, Caretaker Dean, Castiel in the Bunker, Comforting Dean, Common Cold, Domestic Fluff, Don't Have to Know Canon, Fluff, Grumpy Castiel, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker, Post-Season/Series 09, Protective Dean Winchester, Schmoop, Sick Castiel, poor miserable adorable sick Cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-12
Updated: 2014-03-12
Packaged: 2018-01-15 10:44:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1302010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mahbbys/pseuds/mahbbys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas has a cold. He's been refusing to admit it, but Dean knows, and decides to take care of his ex-angel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Sickness and In Health (Or: Grumpy Cas is Grumpy)

**Author's Note:**

> This is an inexcusably schmoopy, grumpy, adorable, fluffy ficlet written while I was sick and unable to write anything more thought-provoking. It's set sometime in the semi-near future of canon, but you really don't have to know anything about season 9 to enjoy it. No real spoilers.

Cas is sick. He's been refusing to admit it, but he knows it's true. It just seems like such a slap in the face to go from ending yet another angel war to falling victim to something as insignificant as a cold virus.

This was not what'd been thinking of when he'd decided not to take back his grace. This was not the human experience he had been wanting to _re-_ experience.

Though he surely isn't feeling fully human right now. Instead of experiencing food as molecules, the way he had as an angel, he's almost experiencing his body that way. Because he's pretty sure he can feel every fiber of his nerves, down to their molecular level, and they all hurt. They hurt like a bitch, as Dean would say.

He's sitting in a wadded up ball on a couch in the bunker, half-listening to the sound of banter between the Winchester brothers. Normally it amuses and fascinates him, but today it just makes him grumpier because neither of them are sick.

Cas is frowning at the middle distance, his eyes slits, when Dean walks into the room. Dean smacks fondly at Cas' foot that's tucked up under the blankets as he sits on the opposite end of the couch. Cas directs his glare towards his own foot and then Dean.

"How ya feelin', Cas?" Dean asks. Dean's been hovering the past few days, worriedly, when Cas was attempting to continue on as if he was fine.

Cas just groans in response.

Dean chuckles softly and asks, "You ready to admit you're sick?"

Cas nods, and swallows with a loud awful sound as the sides of his dry and scratchy throat rub against one another. He sniffles, trying to get his right nostril working again. 

Dean looks at him with what Cas reads as pity. "How about I make you some chicken soup? It'll make you feel better," Dean says softly.

Cas' frown deepens. "Does chicken have antiviral properties?" 

Cas catches the beginnings of an eye roll, but Dean suppresses it and gives him a tight smile instead. "No, but it helps. Promise." Dean pats Cas' foot again before standing up and heading in the direction of the kitchen.

By the time Dean returns, what seems like an eternity later, Cas is tucked even further into the blankets, practically willing himself to become one with the couch. He's been half dozing in between drawn out sessions of nose-blowing and he's littered various piles of tissue paper on the floor.

Dean makes a face at the paper wads, lips pursing and eyes glinting, but he neutralizes his expression before looking Cas in the eye. "Here you go, buddy," he says as he presents a steaming bowl. 

Cas can barely breathe out of his nose, but somehow he can smell the faintest hint of a hot, spicy broth as Dean sets the bowl on the end table. Cas makes a face as he realizes he'll have to move, but Dean, as if reading Cas' mind say, "Hang on one sec," and leaves again.

Cas closes his eyes and tries to take in a deep breath which causes a cough to wrack his body. He's groaning when Dean returns with a small fold out table and sets it before Cas. 

Dean moves the bowl of soup over to it and, wordlessly, puts his hands behind Cas as Cas moves to sit up. Dean fluffs at the pillows and blankets so that Cas can be propped up and Cas manages a small smile in response.

"Now, careful, 'cause it's hot," Dean says, channeling his caregiver nature. He places the back of his hand on Cas' forehead and Cas leans into the cool relief. "I'm gonna get you something for that fever." Dean gives Cas a stern look and points to soup. "Eat," he says, before stalking off.

Cas does as he's told, being careful to blow on the soup to cool it. He's certain that he's missing out on subtleties in the dish, but his tastebuds manage to pick up some of the flavor. The wet warmth of the soup soothes his throat as he swallows and the steam begins to ease through his nose, helping him to breathe.

He hadn't been hungry, but he's eaten quite a bit when Dean returns with two pills and a glass of water. "Take these," he commands gently. Cas once again does as he's told.

Dean sits down at the other end of the couch again, and begins flipping through a book that was on the end table. Cas eats some more soup - Dean was right, it is making him feel better - but soon fatigue moves over him like a heavy blanket. He sets the spoon down in the bowl with a sharp clink, and leans his head back against the pillows and closes his eyes.

He feels movement and then hears he sound of a dish being picked up. He opens his eyes in time to see Dean's back as he's carrying the remains of Cas' lunch into the kitchen. Cas closes his eyes again, and within minutes passes into a fitful sleep.

Some time later - maybe minutes, maybe hours - Cas is woken by Dean carefully tugging the blankets away from him. Cas opens his eyes and frowns. It feels like he's been frowning for three days now, but it's the only expression he can muster.

"You need to be in a bed," Dean explains. "Laying like that's just gonna make you ache worse." 

A small whine escapes Cas before he's even aware the noise is coming from him. "C'mon," Dean says kindly, and helps Cas to his feet.

Cas moans as he stands, and leans gratefully against Dean's solid stature. Then he pulls away and begins shuffling toward the hall. Dean follows after, but tugs gently at Cas' shoulders as they near Dean's room.

"What are..." Cas manages.

"You're gonna sleep in here. The bed's memory foam and it'll be more comfortable. Plus it's easier to keep an eye on you in here. You've never been sick before and I have no idea if a cold can knock out an ex-angel or not. We're not taking chances," Dean explains as he guides Cas into his room and closes the door behind them. Cas would be moved by the concern in Dean's voice if he could focus on anything besides breathing and standing upright.

Cas stands helplessly in the middle of the room, taking in the sight of the space. He's not been in Dean's room for very long before and the idea of sleeping in his bed, that Cas knows will smell like Dean, gives him pause. Of course, then he remembers that he probably won't be able to smell anything anyway, and the frown deepens again.

Dean nudges at Cas' arm and before Cas realizes what he's doing, Dean is helping him out of his shirt. Dean pulls the usually soft fabric, that feels to Cas like sandpaper in his current state, over Cas' head. The frown remains but Cas's eyes are wide now and they catch Dean's in their ice-blue gaze.

Dean's eyes dart down to Cas' mouth and then, it seems, to his chest, before they are directed towards the bed. "Lie down," Dean says in a cracked voice.

Cas stiffly does so and slumps against the mattress on his belly. The sheets are cool against his skin and he's grateful for the improptu stripping. He grunts against the pillow, his own hot breath bouncing back into his face.

Then, suddenly, there are hands on his shoulders, hesitant at first but then strong against him. Cas can't even muster up enough reaction to tense up at the touch because the caress against his knotted and sore body just feels too good. He moans softly, before he can stop himself.

Dean chuckles lightly behind him and Cas can feel Dean's breath graze against his skin. He isn't sure how many of the goosebumps that result are from the breath and how many are from the fever.

A cold shiver takes him over but then he's feeling inflamed again as if his skin had hot coals hidden away beneath it.

The hands continuing kneading into all the right spots, working their way to loosen the kinks in his body. The skin of Dean's hands is rough and soft at the same time and Cas can't tell how much of that is real and how much is from the oversensitivity of his nerves right now.

Dean adjusts on the bed and begins rubbing Cas' lower back as well. Cas is moaning gently every few minutes now. Somewhere in the back of his brain he wonders if he should be doing that, but his body has taken over and isn't listening to rational thought anymore.

He's sinking further into the bed, further into relaxation, and could easily fall asleep now.

Maybe Dean thinks he already has because that's when Cas feels the feather light brush of lips against his shoulders. Dean's hands are still moving but they've slowed. Cas wonders briefly if he imagined the extra touch, but then he feels it again. There are definitely soft lips against the crook where neck meets shoulder.

"Cas?" Dean whispers, leaned in close, almost inaudible. The breath of the word travels across Cas' exposed back.

"Mmm?" is all Cas can manage.

"Maybe..." Dean's voice is quiet and Cas can tell he's hesitating and thinking too much about what he wants to say. "Maybe when you get over being sick...you could sleep in my bed again?"

Cas knows by the way Dean has worded it that he feels vulnerable, knows from the sound of Dean's voice how huge this moment is. Cas knows that he needs to respond in the right way, something more than a pleased grunt.

Cas uses the last of his strength to lift his cheek from the bed. "I'd like that very, very much, Dean," he says, his voice a raspy croak.

He can hear Dean's breath let out, realizes Dean has been holding it. He can practically hear the smile as Dean says, "Yeah. Yeah, ok. Um... Good." Dean's hands had stilled but they begin stroking in circles again.

As Cas starts to fall asleep, he begins to think that maybe being sick and vulnerable isn't the worst thing. He's really looking forward to being well again, though. He's thinking of how much more fun it will be to be lying atop Dean rather than Dean's bed.


End file.
